Wicked Heart (Starcrossed #3)(65)

I close my hand around the thumb drive and sigh. “This is the footage from drunken dress shopping?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You didn’t have to watch it, you know.”

“Of course I did. How else was I supposed to memorize all the things you want to do to me? By the way, I’ll be your ‘sex stallion’ any day, sweetheart.” I slap his arm, and he chuckles. “Jokes aside, you’ll be pleased to know it won’t be appearing in the first episode of our stupid reality show this weekend.”

“Thank God. And thank you for helping me out.”

“No problem. Can’t have you getting fired for your perfectly understandable desire to ‘fuck me ten ways from Sunday.’ ”

I point to the door. “Get out.”

He stands and looks down at me. “Is that any way to speak to ‘the hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on’?”

“Liam!”

He laughs and heads to the door. “Fine. This ‘perfect specimen of manhood’ is out of here. And don’t you dare ogle my ass as I go. Professionalism, please.”

I shake my head and try to hide my smile.

Just as he’s about to exit, Denise appears in the doorway carrying the most enormous bouquet of flowers I’ve ever seen. They’re arranged in a huge crystal vase.

Liam stares at the flowers and blinks. “Denise, wow. You shouldn’t have. I have nowhere to put them.”

She gives him a smile. “If I could afford a bouquet like this, do you think I’d still be working for a living?” She puts them down on my desk. “Elissa, a courier just dropped these off for you. Please tell me it’s not your birthday.”

I glance at the flowers and shake my head. “Believe me, when it’s my birthday, you’ll know. Gift lists will be distributed and shenanigans will be planned. Thanks, Denise.”

She leaves and closes the door behind her.

As I grab the card, Liam frowns at the flowers. “Secret admirer?”

“If they’re sending me something this big, they really don’t want to remain anonymous.” I pull the card from the envelope. “To the most beautiful stage manager I’ve ever met. I look forward to getting to know you better. Warmest regards, Anthony Kent.”

Liam doesn’t comment, but the tension in the room ratchets up to uncomfortable levels in seconds.

“Well,” I say, searching for something to say. “They’re certainly . . . extravagant.”

Liam swears under his breath.

I raise my eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Nothing. I should go.”

He goes to leave, but I grab his hand. “Liam—”

He looks down, and gently removes his fingers from mine. “Liss, I have no right to tell you what to do, and I definitely have no right to tell you who to date. The part of me that’s desperately trying to be your friend wants you to find someone and be happy.”

“And the other part?”

He stares down at me, and his expression reminds me of a bank of thunderheads right before a storm. “The other part feels like destroying things when I think about you and another man, which is insane, considering our circumstances.”

“Yes. It is.” I don’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it does, but I can’t deny that Liam’s jealousy regarding my nonexistent love life irritates me.

It must irritate him, too, because he rubs his eyes and lets out a frustrated sigh. “So many times over the years I’ve typed your name into Google, only to chicken out before I hit ‘enter,’ because I knew I couldn’t handle finding out you were engaged or married. And then I’d hate myself, because if I truly cared about you, which I do, I should want you to find someone who’ll appreciate what an amazing person you are. If I wasn’t such a selfish asshole, I’d wish for men to fall all over themselves to be with you. I’d want them to flatter you and buy you presents, and dedicate themselves to making you happy. But every time I have those thoughts . . . every single time, the deepest parts of me know without a doubt that the only man on this planet who could ever make you truly, deeply happy . . . is me. Crazy, right?”

I stare at him, and clench my jaw to stop myself from admitting how infuriatingly right he is. “Yeah. Crazy.”

He swallows, and glances at the giant flower arrangement. “So, yeah. I’d like to tell you to stay away from Kent, because I don’t think he’s anywhere near good enough for you, but who the hell am I to talk? He just spent a thousand dollars on flowers for you, and I bought . . . well, this.” He passes me the small bag he’s been holding since he walked in.

“What is it?” I ask as I look inside. “A T-shirt?”

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and I swear, I can see color flare on the tops of his ears. “It’s nothing, really. But it reminded me of you, so I had to get it.”

I pull out the T-shirt and hold it up. It’s bright yellow and reads, SWEET DREAMS ARE MADE OF CHEESE. WHO AM I TO DISS A BRIE?

A rush of warmth hits me. “You bought me a T-shirt about . . . cheese?” For some reason, it makes me want to cry.

I sit there for a few seconds, trying to gather myself together, and when I look up, Liam is frowning. “You hate it.”

I hold it to my chest. “Not even a little. It’s the most perfect T-shirt in the history of the world. I love it.” I swallow hard, because damn him for making a ten-dollar joke shirt seem like the sweetest gift I’ve ever received.